


Compliments

by belovedbey



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Everyone secretly ships Scamandore, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smitten Albus Dumbledore, especially minerva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedbey/pseuds/belovedbey
Summary: Albus invites Newt to Hogwarts and Newt doesn’t know why.





	Compliments

Newt walked along the empty Hogwarts corridor, lost in his mind as he reminisced about the years he spent there before he was expelled; he felt out-of-place in the same way he did back then, when he was just a Hufflepuff boy that got picked on mercilessly day after day by everyone except Leta Lestrange. They bonded over both being considered outcasts among the student body; him with his creatures and her with her family history, and they often just sat in the broom cupboard Newt found his second year together in silence, enjoying each other’s company as Newt usually tended to one of his animals. Now, as he strolled alone, footsteps echoing of the stone walls, that feeling of being cast away returned to him full force and he could only restrain himself from running away, abandoning his ex-professor’s request that he join him in his office for a reason he didn’t enclose. Ever since Dumbledore’s owl delivered the letter asking him to tea, Newt tirelessly pondered over why the man would want to do so.

After his expulsion, he’d only written back and forth with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, usually discussing Newt’s creature-filled adventures and what Dumbledore taught to his classes that week, so he was a bit surprised for the older man to summon him to his office rather randomly in the middle of December. He nearly busted his behind slipping on a patch of ice on the viaduct, but he had only stumbled forward a few steps, limbs flailing wildly before he was able to recollect his stance. Pickett found it necessary to poke his head out of his shirt pocket to blow a humoured raspberry at him.

A bell rang overhead, and Newt had to hurriedly wisk himself to the side of the hallway so as not to be trampled by the sea of students that suddenly flooded the hallway, talking and laughing among themselves boisterously as they made route to their next classes. Holding his suitcase with his two hands in front him, Newt watched all of them from under his hair, slightly smiling at seeing how happy a lot of them were; he was glad that at least some students were able to enjoy their time there. “Newt Scamander!” Someone he hadn’t seen join him on his left exclaimed, causing him to jump out of fright. It was a Ravenclaw student, who must’ve been a few years younger than him if she could remember him from when he still attended Hogwarts.

“Um… hi?” He greeted awkwardly, giving her excited glance a wary once-over as he shifted his weight, adjusting his sweaty grip on the handle of his case.

“I’m Penelope Atkinson. I was a second year the year of your… well… the year you left.” Newt inclined his head at her avoidance of the topic. “Dumbledore told us he invited you back, and he’s been so excited that he went off in a tangent about you for fifteen minutes in the middle of class today. I can remember the week… actually more like the whole rest of the school year after you were expelled, and he’d just mope around the castle completely miserable.” Newt’s face felt warm at her words; did Dumbledore actually care for him that much? He couldn’t fathom why the wizard would.

“Really?” He asked, not quite believing.

“Oh, yes,” she affirmed enthusiastically, a smile on her face that Newt didn’t understand. “He’s in his office, but I presume you were already heading there so I’ll let you go.” All he could do amidst his thoughts was nod as he watched her continue on, hurrying up to two of her friends that were waiting for her. Deciding that overthinking was unhealthy and that it probably looked odd doing so in the middle of the hallway, Newt spun on his heel and progressed in the opposite direction toward the Defense room, which was vacant when he tentatively pushed the door open, creak resonant in the uncrowded space. Beside one of the desks in the second row was a textbook, probably forgotten by a student hurried to leave, and so Newt picked it up, brushing it off and placing it atop the desk so it was more visible to whoever might come looking for it. 

Atop the curved staircase in the back of the room, Dumbledore’s office door was closed and Newt could hear music--jazz--muffled behind the wood, and Newt could imagine the professor sat at his oak desk, scratching the red beard under his chin as he graded papers and listened to the ambient gramophone. The afternoon sun shined through the glass windows on the left, illuminating the dust particles in the air that Newt walked through to get to the staircase. Taking the steps one at a time, for he didn’t want to make his presence known by creating a loud bang from tripping up them, he reached the top and, shifting his suitcase to his left hand, lightly knocked on the door with his right. After a minute, he realized that he probably wasn’t heard over the music and so knocked louder, heartbeat increasing as he heard the music stop playing and footsteps make their way to the other side of the door.

When it opened, Newt only looked up for a small moment, offering the seemingly-startled Dumbledore a grin before returning his gaze to the floor inside the office. “Hello, Professor.”

“Newt? Newt! How are you? And how many times have I told you to call me Albus?” He asked, jokingly chastising as he opened the door further to allow him in. Newt only blushed in response, ducking his head at the man as he crossed into the room.

“I’m fine, Prof-- Albus,” he answered, stumbling over the name as he stood, waiting for the man to shut the door and join him. The professor moved to the far side of the room after closing it, picking up a teapot and pouring tea into two cups before moving back and offering him a cup. “Thank you,” he replied to the action, sipping the warm drink--it was earl grey tea; his favourite--as he set his suitcase on the floor beside the red couch that was situated diagonal to Albus’ desk and faced the lit stone fireplace. The orange flames inside flickered and crackled, and Newt could see that it had begun to flurry outside through the window beside the fireplace. 

“Please, sit down,” Albus said, and Newt accepted, sinking into the plush couch ungracefully enough to nearly spill his tea on himself. Albus chuckled at this as he sat beside him much more lithely. Newt had always always been clumsier than normal when around the man, and his stomach felt funny when Albus then looked at him in that admiring way he always did.

“So…” Newt began, setting his cup on the coffee table to prevent legitimately spilling any of the beverage, “Why did you invite me here?”

“Can’t I just have a cup of tea with one of my favourite people?” The man asked, smile and words beguiling in a way that made Newt’s palms begin to clam up. 

“Well, I guess… It just seemed random.”

“I suppose I _did_ have an ulterior motive for this meeting,” Albus sighed, placing his own cup of tea besides Newt’s and leaning back, “Do you know what time of year it is?” Newt wracked his brain to try and remember if anything important was coming up, but Christmas was still a week and a half away. When seeing Newt not coming up with anything, Albus continued. “The students will be leaving for break soon, and the Yule Ball is taking place the day before they are due to depart.”

“Yes…” Newt replied, still not totally understanding where the professor was going with the conversation. He glanced at the older to man, but to his surprise he wasn’t looking at him, instead gazing at some other point in the room as he rubbed one of his arms.

“I was hoping as you’d attend with me.” Newt’s heart jumped, but he tried not to get too hopeful. His ex-professor was significantly older than him, not to mention that he was far out of his league. He had a sort of old-timey charm that instilled a sense of warmth in Newt, and he’d been one of the only sources of positivity during his time at Hogwarts. During his last year there, he realized his feelings for the professor were a little _too_ friendly, and although he was sad to leave the school of witchcraft and wizardry, there was a tiny bit of relief inside him for maybe distance from the older man would deplete his childish feelings.

Now, as he heard these words leave the man’s mouth, he realized this plan failed miserably. “As friends?” Newt questioned, trying not to let his feelings show through in his tone.

“If you want.” To his astonishment, Newt watched the faint blush appear on Albus’ cheeks; the man still didn’t face him, but instead picked at the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing. He’d never, in his time acquainted with the professor, seen the man become as flustered as he was right then. 

“Albus?” At this, he did look at him and the strong emotion pouring from his eyes was hard to decipher. “What if I want to go as more?” Newt heard Albus heavily exhale.

“That would be lovely.” A rare courage grew within him and he stood, Albus carefully watching his every movement, and the older man nearly died in the best way possible when the boy he had a rather inappropriate crush on for years sat on his lap and rubbed their noses together. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he stated, completely serious. The way his skin turned pink was absolutely entrancing.

“Shut up, Albus.” The man opened his mouth to further continue his praise, but Newt moved forward and made him shut up.

***

Professor McGonagall stood beside Headmaster Dippet, both watching Professor Dumbledore and a certain Newton Scamander playing in the snow. Newt, as Dumbledore was admiring the snow falling from the sky, had bent down and gathered some of it into has hands, forming it into a ball before launching it at the professor’s face. The older man, sputtering, zeroed in on Newt as his expression of surprise morphed into one of mischief, and the man darted forward and tackled him into the snow, the younger man’s shriek audible from across the courtyard. 

Now, as the pair were making snow-angels like the children they were, Minerva wished she could take a picture of them, and Armando was just happy that his professor would stop grovelling about whenever Newt Scamander was mentioned in a conversation.

***

Albus watched Newt giggling as he laid there in the snow, and the man was just stunning. Against the pure white, all of the colors of him stood out; the red of his hair that was similar to his own when he was younger, the brown of his freckles similar to caramel, and the flush of his skin that was the most delicate of pinks. “It’s appropriate we’re making snow angels, Newt, for I’ve never met anyone that meets the definition of ‘angel’ more than you.”

Rolling over, Newt straddled the man whose blue eyes contained their usual twinkle--the Headmaster told him later on that his eyes twinkled more when he was around, but he didn’t believe him--and made him shut up for the second time. When they broke apart, Albus subconsciously trailing after Newt’s lips, the older man smiled. “If I get to snog you every time I compliment you, maybe I should do it more often.” 

“You don’t have to compliment me to snog me, Albus.”

“That’s good to know,” the professor responded, taking this information to his advantage. 

By the time they got back inside, they were both completely soaked from the snow seeping through their clothes, but even that didn’t dampen their moods. When they got back to Albus’ office, they found a magical photograph atop the professor’s desk of the two of them rolling around the snow with a note beside it reading _It’s about time, you two. - Minerva_ , and the two of them shared a laugh. Albus immediately framed the photo and kept it on his desk, and that, along with the added pictures of Newt over their time together, kept him at peace when Newt was away, wrangling whatever wild creatures he could get his pretty little hands on. The only bad thing was that he wished those pretty little hands were caressing his face, his lips pecking all over his face after a long day of teaching. He was Newt’s though, and Newt was his, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
